


My Sweet

by TactheJoker



Category: Pro Wrestling, WWE
Genre: M/M, Master/Pet, Warlock - Freeform, demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TactheJoker/pseuds/TactheJoker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into the relationship between the demonic warlock and his pet demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sweet

Finn growled softly, rubbing his head against Taker's knee, sidling up to sit prettily beside his master's thigh, expectant yellow eyes blinking up at him. Although he did not show it, Taker enjoyed his little pet's show of affection and quiet way of asking permission; he did not acquiesce right away though - that wouldn't be prudent. The little demon needed to learn patience.

He let Finn sit quietly for a time, and basked in his pet's almost imperceptible trembling as the need to be held and touched grew stronger. Finally, he touched the black and red tendrils on Finn's head, a soft ghosting of fingers, but it was enough. Finn, remembering to contain himself and not get over-excited, slipped between his master's thighs and raised himself into the Deadman's lap; he felt the chill hand on the small of his back, gently stroking, and Finn nuzzled his master's neck in thanks. The large, fanged mouth on the demon's throat let out a croaking, needy groan, and its twitching teeth grazed the Undertaker's chest in the most delightful fashion. The hot breath dewed his skin and he could hear the urgency in the slight change of speed of the Mouth's breath, and that of Finn.

He felt the tiniest of thrusts from his demon's hips; this time the Deadman allowed himself a smile. He turned his head enough to whisper in his pet's shell-like ear.

"Gentle, my sweet."

His hand moved from Finn's back to the back of his neck, and easy yet firm grasp, and he pulled his demon away and led him down to lay across his lap. The Undertaker admired his pet's fine body, following the trails of lean muscle with his eyes and observing the rise and fall of his bare chest and belly with every breath.

He rested his hand on the demon's torso - his touch was gratefully accepted if the little jump and resulting writhing and soft moan were any indication. In silence, he stroked; from chest to waist, letting his fingertips linger and trace muscle planes, skating over ribs, and after a while, down the interior of his thighs.

Finn twitched and his hips rolled in a small but noticeable and needy fashion. The Undertaker took notice; he stroked the tendrils on Finn's head, and they wrapped around his fingers and hand in a loving way. His traveling hand drifted back up to Finn's chest and with his fingertips he circled the demon's nipple softly, bringing the little bud into erection. Finn moaned and writhed, wanting so much more, but knowing it was not up to him; his body let his master know how much he longed for his touch, how much he wanted his master to take him, but his helpless whimpers as his nipple was plucked and stroked showed he knew that he had no say in the matter. 

His yellow eyes fogged over with lust and longing, he gazed up at his master, meeting his pale eyes and willing him to know how ready he was. His master smiled down at him.

"I know," The Deadman whispered. To Finn's great joy, his master put his large hand between Finn's thighs and gently cupped his genitals. The demon let out a loud whimper and pressed into his master's palm.

"But not yet, my lovely." 

The Undertaker cradled the back of Finn's neck and raised him up enough to kiss, squeezing the demon's genitalia. The mouth on Finn's neck hissed and purred. The Undertaker pulled away slowly, planting another tiny, following kiss on his demon's lips. He lifted Finn in his arms and rose from his throne, carrying his pet to the room where all the pleasure and pain in the world resided.

As the door swung open, Taker spoke to his pet, in a voice as soft as a breath from a ghost.

"The beauty of pain. The elegance of torture. The art of the Little Death. All for you, my sweet. All for you."

The castle went black as the door closed behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are not mine, they belong to themselves, WWE, and Vince McMahon.


End file.
